Page 96 of Perfect Praise

My only thought beforedrifting off to sleep: Locke Hughes is falling in love with me.

I can feel thatMaren is awake before she speaks.

She flinches almost imperceptibly, her breathing quickens, and her fingers curl against my tattoo.

After a minute or two, she whispers, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “I can’t sleep. The wind’s too loud.”

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Almost three a.m.”

She places her palm against my sternum. “Why is your heart racing?”

“That’s my normal state around you lately,” I say, covering the back of her warm hand with mine.

“Because you think you’re addicted to me?” she asks slowly.

“If you could be in my mind,” I say, “you’d understand.”

“Explain it to me instead.”

I pause, my fingers trailing over hers, racking my vocabulary for the right words. “Every time you so much as move an inch, my brain gets a shock, like you complete a circuit within me. My skin can’t take it when the warmth of yours wears off, and I want to crawl out of it when another woman touches me even innocently. There’s something explosive coursing through my veins when you’re near, and you’ll probably give me a heart attack eventually. When you talk, my muscles relax. And when you decide you don’t want me anymore, I’llbe so deprived of dopamine, Maren, you’re going to have me wishing I wasn’t in my own body.” I chuckle. “Too much?”

“You know,” she says, kissing the bottom of my ribcage, “I feel the same way, more or less. And I don’t think I’m addicted to you. That’s what happens to me when I like someone.”

Her words hang in the air. Like. Or love? Do I want her to love me?

Every cell in my body crawls, responding to my question.

“My insides knot every time you step near me,” she adds. “When you look at me with your deep I-want-to-eat-you expression, my blood pressure drops, and then when you show me your dimples, it races back, flooding my heart. I’d tie you to me if I could, in a non-creepy way. Maybe even in a creepy way.Definitelyin a sexual way. And I want to take pictures of you every second. I want to consume every little piece of you, Locke. There is no ‘when I decide I don’t want you anymore,’ I promise. I will always want you.” She mimics my chuckle. “Too much?”

This woman could never be too much. I’d take and take and take, guard every precious piece, and I’d never get tired of it.

“No,” I say, “you’re all-consuming. Hey, you want to go outside?”

She laughs. “In the hurricane?”

“Yes,” I insist, throwing off the comforter. “It’ll be fun.”

In my black boxer briefs, I grab Maren by the ankles and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals and kicks the air.

She’s in my white T-shirt, and I have no idea if she put underwear on or not, but I guess I’ll find out fairly quickly when we step out into the rain.

No, I’ll find out now. I slide my hand up her leg to her bare ass and smile. As soon as she wakes up tomorrow morning, she’ll be rubbing this greedy pussy on my cock to wake me up—if she still wants me.

Downstairs, the back door takes extra effort to open against the wind, and when I step out on the porch, we’re immediately peltedwith rain.

“Ouch,” Maren laughs. When I move to put her down, she shrieks. “I’m going to blow away!”

“I’d hold you through a tornado,” I promise, but she doesn’t hear me in the wind.

It howls and whips around the house, but I keep walking straight out, keeping her draped over my shoulder. The palm trees lean heavily to the left, and I’m careful not to step on the branches that litter the ground around the pool.

Finally, I reach the dock, and we’re completely soaked. I lower Maren down to her feet, but she keeps her arms around my neck.

“It’s chilly,” she says. “Did you bring me out here for a wet T-shirt contest?”

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